The Vision of Galadriel
by Merfy
Summary: COMPLETE! After the Ring is destroyed, Merry is suddenly melancholy. Galadriel appears to both Merry and Pippin, telling them of a vision she had, in which Pippin was the Ringbearer and Merry accompanied him.
1. The Lady Comes

Rating: PG-13 (mild violence and hobbit strife in later chapters) Summary: In the middle of a celebration after the destruction of the Ring, Merry is melancholy. While Pippin is with him, the Lady Galadriel happens upon them. Her words to them provide little comfort at first, but eventually the two hobbits find succor in them. Feedback: Constructive criticism is welcome. I attempt to keep as close to book canon as possible. Ideas on how to improve in this area are particularly welcome. Disclaimer: The places, situations and characters of The Lord of the Rings belong to the Tolkien Estate. This work contains no original characters. No money is being made from this work.  
  
Author's Note: This story is inspired by discussions in the Merry's Mob and Pippin's Playgroup threads formerly of Imladris.net and currently of khazaddum.com.  
  
"The Vision of Galadriel"  
  
Gandalf the White was at peace. In the dark days that had recently gone down over the mountains, many concerns had haunted his mind. As he watched the four hobbits, the last of these drifted away. He had feared that he had set these jolly creatures a task that would strip them of their lives, or perhaps worse, not of their lives but of their joy. Yet as he watched them, unobserved, he could feel their cheer. It was an extraordinary cheer, and it moved him.  
  
Each of the four had done great deeds and thus received his own praise. Still, they were happiest when singing the praises of each other, and it was clear that the greatest source of gladness to each was the mere presence of the other three. Merry and Pippin talked about how happy they were to be reunited with Sam and Frodo. They were relieved to have the two of them back, and both nearly burst through their livery with pride because they knew them. Likewise, Frodo and Sam lauded their younger companions for their deeds in battle, and were very keen to congratulate them on their positions in the service of Rohan and Gondor.  
  
The sound of hobbits singing, laughing and jesting echoed off the walls of Minas Tirith. Indeed, the very stone of the White City, so ravaged by war, seemed to heal itself as the halflings passed. Gondor's last stand against the Shadow had left its chief city weary but the warmth of unabashed hobbit joy seemed to have a positive effect on all the things there, from plants to people. Indeed, Minas Tirith was to receive even more blessings, for after a time a great company of Elves arrived, and with them was Arwen Undomiel, who was to wed King Elessar.  
  
There were great celebrations and in the hearts of all was the light of the sun at high noon. Yet after one particular night of celebrating, Merry retired early. This was not completely out of character for the hobbit, so no one thought ill of it. Pippin alone of the assembled knew something was wrong. He also left, and this too was of no concern to anyone, for Merry and Pippin were rarely seperated in those days.  
  
"What's wrong?" demanded Pippin, as he caught up with Merry outside.  
  
"Oh, it's one of my moods, Pip, and I'll get over it if I just take a nice walk."  
  
This explanation did not please his cousin. "Now Merry, I've gone and left a very good party with my stomach less than full, so begging your pardon, but you will tell me what is bothering you!"  
  
Merry smiled his gallows-smile and replied, "Oh, I'm just so upset with myself. Parading around in this livery like I'm some sort of grand hero, when Frodo's the true hero. He used to tell me all the time when I was little that I would surpass him. While I am taller than him, that doesn't mean a thing to anyone with some sense. I shan't ever surpass him where it matters, and I've gone and forgotten my place."  
  
Pippin began sniffling, "Remember that day when I told them we were busy? We should have thrown ourselves down and offered service immediately! Will we ever not be young and foolish with our tongues?"  
  
Merry sadly looked at Pippin. "Oh, dear Peregrin, I am so sorry to have dragged you into one of my quick-passing moods. But since you wallow too, let's wallow long and perhaps it will be long before we have to wallow again." For many minutes, Merry's face wore a distant expression, and then he said quietly, "I wish I had been able to do something as heroic as Frodo. Maybe I could have saved Lord Theoden, and spared Frodo's hand."  
  
Truth be told, Merry's melancholy was indeed passing, but the two hobbits were not alone. A voice unseen said, "Unbeknownst to you, your wish was nearly granted. Many others were considered as Ringbearers before the task was appointed to Frodo."  
  
Pippin and Merry turned around, unable to speak, for the Lady Galadriel now appeared before them. Both strained for words to properly greet her, and bowed low, but Galadriel continued: "There is no need for words. Sit and be at rest. Yes, what I say is true. For many years I sat in deep thought concerning the Ring, and in this time, I saw many visions. Two particular visions, each involving two halflings, came to me long before the Fellowship passed the borders of Lorien. One, in which I saw two halflings that I have come to know as Frodo and Samwise, was unclear and its end was not revealed to me. The second, in which I saw the two of you, was very clear and I saw the end.  
  
"I do not deny that great fear passed through me when I first saw you at Caras Galadhon. I was relieved to see that Frodo had been chosen as Ringbearer instead."  
  
Both hobbits were ashamed and unable to speak for quite some time. Finally, Pippin was able to say:  
  
"We failed, didn't we, Lady Galadriel?" 


	2. Merry's Charge

Thanks to Ruse, Marion, Midnight Dove, shirebound, Pansy Chubb, Xena and darksun for reviewing the first chapter. I'm glad you find the premise of this story intriguing. Rating: PG-13 (mild violence, hobbit strife) Summary: In the middle of a celebration after the destruction of the Ring, Merry is melancholy. While Pippin is with him, the Lady Galadriel happens upon them. Her words to them provide little comfort at first, but eventually the two hobbits find succor in them. Feedback: Constructive criticism is welcome. I attempt to keep as close to book canon as possible. Ideas on how to improve in this area are particularly welcome. Disclaimer: The places, situations and characters of The Lord of the Rings belong to the Tolkien Estate. This work contains no original characters. No money is being made from this work.  
  
Author's Note: This story is inspired by discussions in the Merry's Mob and Pippin's Playgroup threads formerly of Imladris.net and currently of khazaddum.com.  
  
"The Vision of Galadriel" Chapter Two: Merry's Charge  
  
"We failed, didn't we Lady Galadriel?" asked Pippin, his voice filled with shame.  
  
Galadriel smiled kindly upon them and said, "No, you did not. Let me explain and you shall understand why I was afraid when I saw you. The vision started with Peregrin, who had come by the Ring, leaving at Gandalf's behest. The hour was very late, and hope was fading. Yet Gandalf was not tricked into thinking that the Ring could be used to serve the free races, and he decided that it must be destroyed. Believing strongly in the inherent goodness of your kind, he decided to entrust you, Peregrin, to your cousin Meriadoc, who, for a hobbit, was learned in the maps of Middle- Earth. There was neither a Council at Imladris, nor a Fellowship to accompany you, for time did not permit the formation of either. The Nine pursued you from the time you came through Bree until you unwittingly passed close to Lothlorien, and Celeborn and I were able to use our powers to drive them away from our borders. Alas, we were unable to find you and give you shelter and rest. I do not know how you crossed either the mountains or the River Anduin, but you entered Mordor from the north. There was a skirmish with a part-company of Orcs, where you both received injury. Peregrin was wounded worse than you were, Meriadoc, and by the time the two of you reached Gorgoroth, he was completely dependent upon you."  
  
All this amazed the hobbits. Merry had so many questions about the story, for it all seemed utterly improbable, and quite frankly, he was amazed that he had not gotten the two of them lost. He could not speak though, and Galadriel, if she noticed his questioning eyes, chose to continue her tale uninterrupted...  
  
Pippin was very cold, so Merry made to wrap his green jacket around him, which would expose his yellow waistcoat to any on the plateau of Gorgoroth who would care to look if he did not lie down. In another time, in another world, this would have spelled doom for the two halflings, but Merry's waistcoat was so filthy that its color was dimmed, and he had time to wrap his cousin up before hiding himself. Merry laid low in disgust. There would be no movement for a few more hours at least; Sauron's armies were marching. 'Marching to victory, probably,' thought Merry. 'What if they have destroyed the Shire? What if they're only close? We're not even moving; we're losing time!'  
  
His muscles tensed, ready to launch him forward, but he stopped them. For the armies were marching and if they moved, they would be seen. Days upon days had Merry watched Sauron's armies march, and they followed a distinct pattern. Merry had taken great pains to figure this out so that he could know the best time to move Pippin. It had come to that. The poor lad had been badly injured in fighting that group of Orcs. The months of living in unceasing fear of those black riders that had mercilessly and tirelessly pursued them--here Merry paused to thank whatever power had driven them away--added to his injuries and the horrible burden of carrying that Ring had nearly caused Pippin to fade to nothingness. Now he was but a living pillow or pouch that existed for no other purpose but to carry the Ring. He had no will or thoughts or movement of his own, and the duty was laid upon Meriadoc Brandybuck to get him to Mount Doom.  
  
"He's all yours now," whispered Merry to himself. "He can't fight anymore." For there had been fights. Mostly small ones, but the two of them were so close, that any disagreement took a horrible toll on both of them. In fact, there had really been only one large fight. It broke out when Pippin killed the other thing that had been pursuing them, the thing that had not stopped when the Black Riders had gone away. Merry guessed it was the gollum- creature that Gandalf had hastily warned them about.  
  
Merry began to consider the one question that he had considered again and again on their journey. Why couldn't there have been more time? Gandalf's explanation of their charge had been so short. Merry remembered some of the words that the wizard had said to him alone at their parting: "You must take It to Mordor, for if Sauron recovers It, all will be lost. Beware of riders who follow you and wear black. Do not move by night, for this is when you shall be most vulnerable. Also beware of a creature that makes a strange sound, 'gollum.' This pitiable thing is the one who lost the Ring to Bilbo and his desire for It rivals Sauron's. He is a souless thing, given to any means of trickery or thievery. He is as dangerous as any that shall try to harm you. You must take the Ring to Mount Doom, the mountain of fire, deep in Mordor. There is an entrance to the forges. You must enter there and you must cast the Ring over the edge. I wish I could say more, but we cannot afford to waste even breath now."  
  
Merry mind wandered back further into time, back to old Bilbo talking about the gollum-creature, before his early death, before he willed the Ring to Pippin because Pippin had fancied the little bauble that made him disappear. Alas that Gandalf had not discovered the Ring's true identity before Bilbo had died! But from Bilbo's description of the creature, he was certain that it was what Pippin had killed.  
  
Merry would never forget the night. He had fallen asleep--as he remembered this, he cursed himself, yet again--and the gollum-creature had crept up, and made to strangle him. Yet the thing had created some noise that stirred Pippin, who leapt up, and with a great shout, felled him with one stroke.  
  
Pippin's stroke had been singular. Gandalf's words to him had been few. Merry was now coming to realize that all that was born of those words and that stroke now lay at his feet. Those things were many and weighty. 


	3. Waiting

****

Thanks to all who have provided reviews of this work. I really appreciate it!  
Rating: PG-13 (mild violence and hobbit strife in later chapters)   
Summary: In the middle of a celebration after the destruction of the Ring, Merry is melancholy. While Pippin is with him, the Lady Galadriel happens upon them. Her words to them provide little comfort at first, but eventually the two hobbits find succor in them.   
Feedback: Constructive criticism is welcome. I attempt to keep as close to book canon as possible. Ideas on how to improve in this area are particularly welcome.   
Disclaimer: The places, situations and characters of The Lord of the Rings belong to the Tolkien Estate. This work contains no original characters. No money is being made from this work.  
  
Author's Note: This story is inspired by discussions in the Merry's Mob and Pippin's Playgroup threads formerly of Imladris.net and currently of khazaddum.com.

****

"The Vision of Galadriel"  
Chapter Three: Waiting

Sauron's armies seemed to be perpetually marching. Merry was forced to wait, and grapple with his thoughts. Merry was almost without hope; there was no way he could carry Pippin all the way to Mount Doom. He could not leave his cousin. Yet, he had promised to finish the Quest if Pippin could not. Gandalf had made him promise that he could do that. He was followed by the fear that he would be forced to choose between leaving his cousin and destroying the Ring. How he longed to move! To stay meant he could not escape thinking about that terrible fear. How odd that hopelessness itself should drive him ever closer to the mountain, but so great was Merry's desire to flee from the seeds of hopeless thoughts in his mind that hopelessness helped him stagger on toward the final goal. 

The toil that Merry's mind endured as these thoughts ran through his head became almost too much to bear. He desperately tried to turn his thought elsewhere, and eventually succeeded. Alas, the thoughts were still unhappy. Merry shuddered to think about it. Pippin had killed. Merry had not thought that such a thing was even possible. "The Ring, that accursed Ring!" he hissed to himself. Still, that had been perhaps the only time that Pippin's essential nature had been changed, which would have been a good omen, if Merry thought it possible that Pippin would live for more than a few days. His younger cousin had grown weary and fear had exacted that which it was owed. As he considered this, Merry hung his head, completely defeated. He looked down at Pippin, and realized that he had failed. 'You were supposed to protect him from fear. That's why Gandalf sent you with him,' he thought, 'to quell his fear and to shoulder his weariness.'   
  
'You were going along there well for a bit, Meriadoc Brandybuck, but boy did you stumble when it came the episode with that gollum-creature. Yelling at Pippin like that, what foolishness!' 

Merry had chastised Pippin that night. From the moment Merry looked at that dead creature, he had been filled with a distant, lingering dread. The death would work against them in the end, of this he was certain. Killing. It was wrong. Something inside Merry told him that not even in filling their orders was killing justified. He could almost hear Gandalf's voice in his head, warning them about killing another creature, though Gandalf had issued no such warning. 

'Perhaps it slipped his mind. What a pity,' thought Merry, in disgust.   
  
'Yes, but you had to go and lecture the lad right then and there. He was so scared, remember what he said to you, remember how your young and unprepared cousin came to you, crying and wishing for comfort and reason, saying: "I cannot live in fear. I am so tired of being scared, and being followed. Scared and followed! I want it to stop!" So concerned were you with his orders that you forgot your own: to keep him as free from fear and weariness as possible! You deserved what happened.'   
  
Pippin had used the Ring. For five days he remained in the Ring-world. Luckily, he left a visible trail, and Merry was able to track him, though he could not figure out why the hosts of Mordor did not descend upon them; Gandalf had said they would be drawn to the Ring with renewed vigor if it should ever be worn. Eventually, Pippin made himself visible again, but it took many days of walking to repair their relationship. It was a testament to their bond that it had been forged anew, and there were no dents upon it.   
  
Merry looked at the Ring as it lay on Pippin, and he directed all his hatred toward it. "Because of you, he'll never live to the mountain!" growled Merry. The Ring gave no response; it merely remained there, a simple golden band. All the more infuriating. As he had many times before, Merry wished that Gandalf had taken the Ring from Pippin and given it to him, so that he could go out alone, do what needed to be done, and return.   
  
It was coming to the time where moving would be best done. Merry started to cry as he put Pippin on his back. His cousin barely moved, and hadn't responded verbally in days. His face told the story—he was exhausted from the burden he had been asked to carry. The Ring was easily visible, still hanging on its little cord around his neck. Merry took a deep breath, and then reached out for the Ring, to take it, to lift the burden from Pippin. Merry stayed his hand, but it was so very hard for him to do. Still, he knew—just _knew—_if the malevolent thing could be taken from Pippin, he would recover.   
  
Merry moved with as much haste as possible, and found another spot that would do as far as concealing the two of them. This same procedure of crawling along with Pippin on his back, just to find another spot to hide, went on for days. To Merry's continual astonishment, Pippin was actually beginning to recover. By the time Merry had gotten them to the roots of Mount Doom, he could carry on a conversation with Pippin again.   
  
Pippin talked about his death as though it was imminent and could not be halted, but his mood was as cheery as ever, and he seemed to be accepting the situation with an unbelievably jolly manner. Merry would not let him walk, for though Pippin had lost all hope of living, Merry could see that he was continuing to get better. Little did Merry know that Pippin was improving because the Ring was transferring its burden. Each day it was harder for Merry to hold his hand back from the Ring as Pippin slept.   
  
'Gandalf should have taken it from him and given it to me!' thought Merry angrily one night. 'If I take it from Pippin, he will get better!' He watched his cousin sleep, and almost without willing it, moved ever closer to him. He stretched his hand out to take the Ring, pulling his hand away only seconds before Pippin woke up. 


	4. Orodruin

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Thanks to all who have provided reviews of this work. I really appreciate it! I have looked over your stories, and will leave reviews soon.  
Rating: PG-13 (mild violence and hobbit strife in later chapters)   
Summary: In the middle of a celebration after the destruction of the Ring, Merry is melancholy. While Pippin is with him, the Lady Galadriel happens upon them. Her words to them provide little comfort at first, but eventually the two hobbits find succor in them.   
Feedback: Constructive criticism is welcome. I attempt to keep as close to book canon as possible. Ideas on how to improve in this area are particularly welcome.   
Disclaimer: The places, situations and characters of _The Lord of the Rings _belong to the Tolkien Estate. This work contains no original characters. No money is being made from this work.  
  
Author's Note: This story is inspired by discussions in the Merry's Mob and Pippin's Playgroup threads formerly of Imladris.net and currently of khazaddum.com.  
  
  
**"The Vision of Galadriel"  
**Chapter Four: Orodruin  
  
Pippin smiled at Merry in those first waking moments, and any desire that Merry had for the Ring left him for a time. However, the events repeated themselves, and every night Merry would brood while Pippin slept, brood on the situation that he and his cousin were in. What he had once considered an opinion, that it would have been better for him to go off alone with the Ring and do this deed, was now a hard and fast fact in his mind. This was out of character for Merry. The hobbit did not truly fear many things, but being alone was one of them. He had never sought solitude for any extended period of time, and even as his wish that he had been sent alone grew stronger, he realized that this was a mutation in his nature. While keeping watch over Pippin, he would wonder aloud to the black night of Mordor whether or not the Ring was the cause of the change.   
  
They had not gone far up the roots when Pippin very suddenly began to deteriorate. He coughed up something awful. Merry did not know what it was, except that it was bad.   
  
Merry stared at the Ring and thought: _It should have been appointed to me!_   
  
Pippin convulsed.   
  
_Me and me alone!_  
  
Pippin loosed his grip on the stick that the two of them had carried into Mordor from the outside and that Merry had used for support when it had come time for him to shoulder the burden of two and not merely one. It bounced off a rock and settled on the ground.  
  
_Save him! Save him now or he will die!_   
  
Pippin collapsed.   
  
_If you value your cousin's life, act NOW!_   
  
Summoning all his nerve, so that he would appear calm, Merry said, "Pip, please give me the Ring."   
  
Pippin, unable to converse, looked up weakly. His expression indicated that he had both heard and understood his cousin, but that he was unsure about his request.   
  
"Pippin," said Merry, somehow appearing calm, "listen to me. Gandalf sent two in case the one who carried the Ring—you—died and could not finish the task. This Ring is killing you. If you keep it on, you will die, and I will have to leave you here, because I do not think I have it in me to carry you all the way up this mountain. If you die, I must take the Ring and go on to destroy it. I promised Gandalf and promised you that I would do that. If I wait for you to die before I take the Ring, we will incur a delay that may spell doom for that which we love, and I will lose you, body and soul, to a preventable death. I do not know if I could bear for that to happen."  
  
Merry could have spoken complete nonsense; it would not have mattered to the fading Pippin. The young Took looked up at Merry, the smartest hobbit he had ever known. Truthfully, he had not heard all of what Merry had said, but he knew Merry would not steer him wrong. He motioned at the Ring with his hand and nodded his head. Merry grasped the cord that bore the Ring and placed it around his neck. The burden had been transferred. A few minutes later, Pippin was still, and his eyes were closed. There was a trace of a smile upon his face. Merry was moved deeply; he paused for some time and wept softly as his cousin slept.   
  
Merry found that the Ring made his senses keener and his judgement sharper. Yet, even as he fought it, he could feel it taking a hold of him. He wanted to move quickly, to get to the Cracks and cast the thing off, for he could sense that something foul and unnatural was happening to him. He would have strange thoughts of turning around and going back to rouse the Shire to victory over the Dark Forces, and turning Brandy Hall into the most glorified house in all of Eriador.   
  
'Eriador?' thought Merry to himself. 'I barely know what Eriador is.'   
  
For the moment, he pushed these thoughts back, and urged Pippin on. Pippin's recovery had been remarkable, but he still could not move with any great speed. He would follow slightly behind Merry, using their stick for support. Merry wished that Pippin could walk alongside him—somehow he felt this would all be easier if he could laugh and jest with Pippin. Merry now spent most of the day's hours awake, ready to push away the seductive images of power and glory that now tried to fill his head. It was a great trial.   
  
Eventually, the pair reached the great chamber of Mount Doom, Sammath Naur to the learned. It was here that the Ring seized Merry, wholly and completely. It was the stuff of nightmares. In one moment, Merry was himself—a tired, hungry version of himself, but himself nonetheless. In the next, he was consumed. He grasped the Ring in his hand, and never has a hobbit been more fair or terrible, as he shouted, "For the Shire and the glory of Buckland! On against the Shadow!"   
  
Pippin gasped and froze. Thankfully for all of Middle-Earth, he had just enough wits about him to strike at Merry's hands with the stick. Had he been but a second slower, Merry would have put the Ring on, and all would have been lost. A second blow from the stick knocked Merry to the ground, seemingly unconscious, with the Ring still on its cord and visible. Looking at the Ring, a dark thought flew through Pippin's mind. He leaned down toward Merry, who leapt up, and a brief struggle ensued. Pippin was not as strong as his cousin, but kept his stick, and used it to get free. Pippin kept hitting at Merry's hands, for he knew that he must keep the Ring off Merry's finger. Merry did not wince at the blows, and though Pippin was able to move him to the edge of the cracks, once Merry took his position, Pippin could not budge him in any direction, regardless of how much force he put into each blow.   
  
With each blow, Pippin would make a cry. These cries were not of battle, but of sorrow.   
  
They became wailing: "I don't want to! I don't want to! Don't make me! Don't make me! I don't want to, please don't make me! I won't! Oh, don't make me do it! Don't! Merry!"   
  
With each successive cry, he struck harder and harder, but his strength was waning, and he knew that Merry would soon overcome him.   
  
Pippin continued to delay by using the stick, probably for too long. At last, he realized that all the choices he could think of were exhausted. He hoped that he was not overlooking any options in the matter, but he also realized that time was against him. "I promised Gandalf that as long as I was alive, I would try to destroy It," he said softly, trying to somehow steel himself, trying to prepare himself for what he was about to do. He dropped the stick, and looked to Merry with equal parts love, sorrow and duty etched upon his face. He said nothing, for there were no words that could be said, and ran straight at and into Merry, pushing him over the edge and into the fire.


	5. The Ringbearer

****

Thanks to all who have provided reviews of this work. I really appreciate it!   
Rating: PG-13 (mild violence and hobbit strife in later chapters)   
Summary: In the middle of a celebration after the destruction of the Ring, Merry is melancholy. While Pippin is with him, the Lady Galadriel happens upon them. Her words to them provide little comfort at first, but eventually the two hobbits find succor in them.   
Feedback: Constructive criticism is welcome. I attempt to keep as close to book canon as possible. Ideas on how to improve in this area are particularly welcome.   
Disclaimer: The places, situations and characters of _The Lord of the Rings _belong to the Tolkien Estate. This work contains no original characters. No money is being made from this work.  
  
Author's Note: This story is inspired by discussions in the Merry's Mob and Pippin's Playgroup threads formerly of Imladris.net and currently of khazaddum.com.  
  
  
  
**"The Vision of Galadriel"  
Chapter Five: The Ringbearer**  
  
Here, Galadriel paused to look at the two hobbits. Merry's face was frozen as though he had seen an unspeakable horror, but Pippin's expression was much less anguished. He merely looked tired. It was not nearly the expression one would expect, given the story that Galadriel was telling.   
  
'Of course,' thought Galadriel, 'merely because Meriadoc is hearing one thing does not mean that is the same thing I choose for Peregrin to hear,' and she smiled to herself as she thought this. What tale had the Lady spun for Pippin while at the same time she had been painting a vision of horrible death for Merry?  
  
Afraid. Always afraid. Pippin found himself wanting to weep all the time. He had this Ring about his neck, but he didn't know where he was going or what was following him or what the Ring was doing to him. He supposed that since Gandalf had only seen fit to tell him a few things, what to do with the Ring in Mordor being one of them, of course, that was all he needed to know. Still, Pippin couldn't help but believe he would feel more secure if he had a little more knowledge.   
  
Merry knew. Merry knew everything. He knew how to get to Mordor, and when it was safe to move and how to hide from what was chasing them. When he was frightened, Merry would comfort him. Pippin had always been very dependent upon Merry when he was younger. Pippin's aunt (and Merry's mother) Esmeralda used to laugh about how Merry was the apple of the young Took's eye. In the last few years, he _had_ started to become more independent of his cousin. Now, he could feel himself regressing, for he was more dependent on Merry now than he had been since before he could walk properly.   
  
'I used to cry to him when we had no more treats at the Smials. At least I'm crying to him now because I am being followed by murderous servants of Sauron,' thought Pippin. He let out a bit of a wry chuckle that caught Merry's attention. Merry turned back to look at him.   
  
"What was that for?" he asked.  
  
"Really, Merry, what other emotion is left? I have cried, and I have screamed, and I have stayed silent, so why not laugh?"  
  
Merry shrugged his shoulders and smiled at Pippin, but did not reply.  
  
"Merry?"  
  
"Yes Pippin?"  
  
"What would happen if those things that were following us captured us?"  
  
Merry blanched a bit and replied, "I do not know."  
  
Pippin was not fooled; Merry knew quite well what the consequences of such a thing would be, but he was not forthcoming. Thus was Pippin wholly in the hands of his cousin as he followed him on a tree-path. Pippin was uneasy about this dependency. Merry would never answer his questions about what was going on. Pippin was rather sensitive about his intelligence and knowledge base, or as some would have said, his lack thereof. His sisters, parents, and some of his cousins—but not Merry—teased him good-naturedly about being less than bright at times. He was a bit resentful when Merry would pat him on the head and tell him not to worry instead of answering him.   
  
'I can learn things too,' Pippin thought to himself.   
  
Finally, one day, he asked Merry about this. "Merry," he said, juggling some small stones as they walked, "why don't you ever answer my questions about the Ring? It would make me feel safer to know. I think, well, they say that I'm thick enough already, you know, without having information held back from me when I'm actually inquisitive enough to ask for it."   
  
Merry slowed down so that he could walk next to Pippin. "Now Pip," he began, "you are not a fool. You assume the best of people and things, and have a light heart. There are too many who will call you foolish for that, but do not pay any attention to them.   
  
"You also seem to have been tricked by those who would have you believe that knowledge equals security. I'm terribly frightened too, and while I'm no Frodo Baggins when it comes to my lore, I know enough. I think you would be even more scared if I answered your questions. Knowledge provides no security unless you've got the power to control things, which neither of us has really got, in terms of what is following after us, anyway. Now Gandalf told me to keep you free from fear, and I believe this is the way to do it. Please trust me."   
  
Pippin decided this was reasonable enough, and that Merry surely knew best anyway. Merry, in order to not leave Pippin completely wanting, began to tell him about the different regions of Middle-Earth, and about the lands they would be visiting. These conversations made for happier days for them both.   
  
Still, Pippin was afraid. This was most true at night, when it was dark, and strange things, both large and small, that he was sure were searching for him and his Ring, crept about. One night though, Pippin could tell the steps were close. He looked to Merry, who waved at him off and gave him a look that said, "Go to bed." Pippin _was_ dreadfully tired, and fell asleep. While sleeping, he had a very strange dream. There was nothing to be seen, but he heard a voice, a voice that told him that the power to control things and to free himself from fear laid in the Ring. Those that tried to keep the Ring off his finger were trying to keep him fearful.   
  
The voice said more, but Pippin was stirred by noise. There was something in their camp. He looked over to Merry for protection, but Merry had fallen asleep, and something was upon him! It was going for his neck, and Pippin knew it intended to kill him. Fear like a fear he had never known filled his entire body, and the dream echoed back at him: "Take the Ring. Take it and have the power to destroy your fear!"  
  
Pippin clasped the Ring in his fist, leapt up, and looked into the huge, strange, sad eyes of the creature before he killed him. The Ring fell from Pippin's hand, and bounced on the cord. The sword clanged upon the ground, and Pippin also fell to the ground. He started to wail and cry.   
  
Merry didn't listen to him though; he didn't provide comfort. He yelled at Pippin, and told Pippin how bad killing was.   
  
'But we don't have to be afraid of it anymore,' thought Pippin. 'Maybe Merry wants me to be frightened! Maybe the dream was right! It is time for me to take control so I don't have to be afraid anymore!'   
  
With that, he put on the Ring.   
  
Pippin could hear the echo of Merry's scream as he vanished into another world. It was blurry and disorienting, and Pippin had no idea where he was going, but he was not afraid. For a few days he went on like this—he could tell the difference between night and day—and was pursued by none but Merry. But on the fifth day, Pippin became quite aware of forces external to himself that were pulling and prodding him—in what direction, he did not know, but he knew the direction was wrong. It suddenly occurred to him that he had not only no knowledge of what was going on, but also he still had no control. Not only that, but he was being led along by something sinister instead of Merry.   
  
'I need to take it off! I must take it off!' Pippin went toward the Ring, but it was hard to get it off his finger.   
  
Finally, he was able to make it budge, and as it came off, scenes flashed before him, quicker than lightning. Fighting orcs. Endless waste. The roots of Mount Doom. The Cracks themselves. And the last most worrisome: Merry's face, distorted and terrible.   
  
When he freed his finger from the Ring, his mind went blank for a moment. When he recovered himself, he was on the ground at the very edge of the Cracks of Doom, and the Ring was gone.


	6. The Quest Is Complete

****

Thanks to all who have provided reviews of this work. I really appreciate it!   
Rating: PG-13 (mild violence and hobbit strife in later chapters)   
Summary: In the middle of a celebration after the destruction of the Ring, Merry is melancholy. While Pippin is with him, the Lady Galadriel happens upon them. Her words to them provide little comfort at first, but eventually the two hobbits find succor in them.   
Feedback: Constructive criticism is welcome. I attempt to keep as close to book canon as possible. Ideas on how to improve in this area are particularly welcome.   
Disclaimer: The places, situations and characters of _The Lord of the Rings _belong to the Tolkien Estate. This work contains no original characters. No money is being made from this work.  
  
Author's Note: This story is inspired by discussions in the Merry's Mob and Pippin's Playgroup threads formerly of Imladris.net and currently of khazaddum.com.  
  
**"The Vision of Galadriel"  
Chapter Six: The Quest is Complete  
  
**From this moment, Galadriel gave both hobbits a unified vision.   
  
Pippin realized that he had crashed straight into Merry, sending him over the Crack; that was why the Ring was gone. As that concrete reality began to bowl him over, he realized that he was not alone. While he had indeed crashed straight into Merry, Merry had not budged. Pippin had been weak, and the Ring had given Merry abnormal strength. The Ring entered Pippin's view from over his head, descending and dancing upon its cord until it was at his eye level. Merry laughed mercilessly.   
  
"You were too weak for such a treasure," he said, clear and stern.   
  
Pippin looked up and saw his cousin, who if his face had not been marred by treacherous thoughts, would have been the most handsome hobbit that had ever drawn breath in Middle-Earth. He seemed to stand taller, and strength pulsated from him. His eyes were keen and he appeared as a great warrior, but he was evil.   
  
"It is now with the one who is worthy of possessing it. For the Shire, and for Brandy Hall!" cried Merry, as he cried out and raised his small, dirty dagger in triumph. "To think, cousin, that you believed you could murder me." Merry deliberately emphasized the word _murder_ in a pitiless voice. Pippin trembled on the ground.   
  
By this time, hope _had _to have abandoned Peregrin Took. How could hope possibly endure in that wretched furnace so near to the grasp of the Dark Lord? Yet, greater evils than Sauron had existed—and been defeated—and at any rate, it seemed that hope and optimism were as much a part of Pippin as the hair on his feet. Still, he had not the strength to keep the Ring off Merry's finger, and his one chance to send the Ring into the fire had passed. Despite this, he would not allow himself to succumb to inaction, to give up the fight. He tried one last entreaty, hoping his words would reach through the madness, to his older cousin that he looked up to and loved. 'If there's any of him left,' thought Pippin to himself.   
  
In a voice that was so full of fright that it surprised even him, he said, "You are right! I should not have tried to kill you, and I should not have killed that gollum-creature! I was wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong! I am a murderer! A murderer! Forgive me Merry. Please just throw the Ring away, and let's go home. I want to go home! I need you to take me home!"   
  
His voice had become less steady as he stated his final plea, and when he finished, he realized that he had spent all he had. With this, he collapsed on the rocks, began to cry, and gave up sustaining a defense. The path was clear for Merry to claim the Ring, and leave the Cracks. Merry, however, remained still. Although it had not appeared that he had listened to Pippin at all, even in his current state, he had to pause at the sound of his cousin's voice, so desperate and helpless had it been.   
  
From the dark corners of his mind came a foreign yet familiar voice: 'You planned for this. Both Gandalf and you knew this danger existed. The two of you created a plan in the moments before you departed. The plan—you must follow through on the plan. You swore to it.'   
  
He held the Ring in his palm. He was not even aware of it as a separate entity as he stared at it, and with much sadness, he realized that he would not be able to part with it. He had not the control over his own self. He would have to go through with the plan. Fighting back the taint that he could feel poisoning his mind just enough to exercise some control over his limbs, he took a deep breath. He moved slowly, lest Pippin figure out what he was doing and harm himself in trying to stop him. He turned around to face the cracks. Looking at the Ring in his hand, and sadly resigning himself to the fact that he could not give it up, he leapt off the ledge.   
  
He had jumped high, perhaps wishing to delay the inevitable, and as he was coming down, he was somewhat aware of Pippin grabbing the back of his jacket. There was a slight resistance. For a moment, Merry entertained the thought that Pippin was going to pull him back and save him. That, however, was not his cousin's intent. Pippin had let Merry's momentum pull him over the side, and the two began to fall together. By either chance, or the gifts of a higher power, the drop was long enough for them to make eye contact. Pippin saw that the madness had left Merry's eyes and face, and was glad. Merry saw that Pippin understood why he chosen to destroy the Ring in this way, though he did not understand why Pippin chose to go with him. Part of him was happy not to die alone, and to die knowing he was loved. Unaware of anything else that could be done, Merry drew Pippin close and said words of comfort to him in their last moments. 


	7. Do Not Be Troubled, Little Merry

****

Thanks to all who have provided reviews of this work. I really appreciate it!   
Rating: PG-13 (mild violence and hobbit strife in later chapters)   
Summary: In the middle of a celebration after the destruction of the Ring, Merry is melancholy. While Pippin is with him, the Lady Galadriel happens upon them. Her words to them provide little comfort at first, but eventually the two hobbits find succor in them.   
Feedback: Constructive criticism is welcome. I attempt to keep as close to book canon as possible. Ideas on how to improve in this area are particularly welcome.   
Disclaimer: The places, situations and characters of _The Lord of the Rings _belong to the Tolkien Estate. This work contains no original characters. No money is being made from this work.  
  
Author's Note: This story is inspired by discussions in the Merry's Mob and Pippin's Playgroup threads formerly of Imladris.net and currently of khazaddum.com.  
Author's Second Note: This story contains prominent spoilers for _The Return of the King_.  
  
  
  
**"The Vision of Galadriel"  
Chapter Seven: Do Not Be Troubled, Little Merry  
  
**Here, Galadriel's voice stopped, and all images and sounds vanished from the minds of the two hobbits. They saw and heard nothing. When they realized that they were not dead, but merely sitting outside in a courtyard, Pippin began to cry on Merry's shoulder. Merry put an arm around him for support, but looked at Galadriel with an emotionless face. "Lady," he said, "if...if it had gone as you say, would Frodo be whole? Would Lord Théoden still be alive?"   
  
Pippin, who had stemmed the tears of shock, added, "Would the forests of Fangorn been unspoiled? Would fewer men of Gondor have fallen in battle?" He paused, and added, with a shaken voice, "Would Gandalf have fallen in Moria?"  
  
Merry took up again. "If all that suffering and sadness could have been prevented, then Lady Galadriel, I'm not sure if I wouldn't wish that it had happened that way. Please do not take my words lightly, for I have faced death before, and I have made the conscious decision to lay down my life to help another. My words are backed by experienced purchased at a high price."   
  
"Me too," chimed Pippin, and before Merry could chide him for foolish talking, he (and the Lady Galadriel) could see that Pippin was not merely imitating his cousin, but expressing thoughts arrived at through his independent deliberation. Merry sometimes forgot about Pippin's experiences at the Black Gate—they did not show on his face.   
  
Galadriel did not immediately respond. Long had it been since she had been stirred thusly. She was the Lady of Caras Galadhon; a proud, golden-haired daughter of Finarfin who yet lived in bliss with the Valar and had herself dwelt with them; one who had come to Middle Earth after passing through the Helcaraxë long ago; and who had seen Morgoth, of whom Sauron was but a shadow, shackled. The most valiant moments of the Noldor, when they shone with glory and valor, these were her family history. She had lived through both joys and sorrows so high and so deep that words did not exist to account for them.   
  
Still, she was moved by the words of Merry and Pippin. 'They will be accounted as the lesser of the four,' she thought, 'but all that is lesser is the deeds they were destined to do, not their sense of duty or their pure nature.'   
  
After a time, Galadriel knelt so that she was closer to the level of Merry and Pippin. "I do not know how others would have fared. That was not revealed to me." She smiled and continued, "I am sure you have heard this from others, but even the very wise cannot see all ends."  
  
Merry thought on her words and then said: "Perhaps I have spoken too quickly." He looked at Pippin, and embraced him.  
  
"Yes, indeed I have. My Lady, I have never lost anyone dear to me before the events of this past year, and, well, I wish I could have rectified it so that no one had to die. But I guess that people must always die," and here he hesitated, "right Lady Galadriel?"   
  
In Galadriel's mind, she heard the sea crash against the rocks, and her mind drifted to a place where death was not necessary.   
  
'But even there,' she thought, 'death was. Death of the worst kind—kin slaying kin.'   
  
"You are correct, Meriadoc. Here, there must always be death."   
  
"Well, then," said Pippin, interrupting his cousin, "then I don't suppose we ought to complain. Our kin are here, and we've lost precious few friends in the scheme of things. We ought not feel guilty because we are here and in one piece," and here he hesitated like his cousin, "right, Lady Galadriel?" He gulped.   
  
Galadriel laughed. "Yes, you are, Peregrin, son of Paladin. Rare is a heart and spirit as innocent as yours."   
  
Pippin bowed gravely and in appreciation, though he was grinning in what Merry thought was an inappropriate manner. Thankfully, only Merry could see it. He was ready to give Pippin a swift kick if he started to say something foolish, but Pippin held his tongue.   
  
"I feared greatly that you would suffer irreparable harm to heart and spirit, and it is with great relief that you appear before me unchanged in this fundamental way." Pippin was beaming with pride, as Galadriel rose to her full height again. She touched Pippin on the head, and turned to Merry. She smiled at him, and the corners of her mouth were edged with pity, for she felt that while Merry was remarkably undamaged by the ordeal, he had not remained as unscathed as Pippin. Likewise, she placed her hand on his head.   
  
"To you both, I say Namarië! I must take your leave now. I will not tell you to never be troubled by these events again, but feel no guilt at what has come to you, for it was earned well." With this, she seemed to float away.   
  
Merry and Pippin sat in silence. After a time, they went toward their rooms, but Merry mentioned that he wished to see Frodo before retiring. He broke in that direction, and knocked on Frodo's door.   
  
"Come in," replied Frodo.   
  
"It's me, Frodo," answered Merry. Without pausing to survey the room, he added, "Good evening, Sam." There was no response.   
  
Frodo chuckled, "Sam's not here. I believe that some of the Elves have taken up teaching him more about Gil-Galad. What can I help you with?"   
  
Merry approached Frodo, and Frodo knew the expression on his face. Merry looked as though he had stirred from a nightmare and the realization that things would be all right was making its way through his previously terrified countenance. When the two of them had been together at Brandy Hall, when Merry was a small lad he would always seek out Frodo's room after a nightmare, and crawl into bed next to him. The two hobbits stood only about a foot apart, and face to face. The age difference between the two of them had nearly seemed to vanish when Merry grew his wit and serious personality, but at this moment, the 14 years between them was as a chasm.   
  
Frodo smiled a smile of age and experience, and softly said, "I was right. Look at you, Merry, you've quite surpassed me. If you don't stop, I shall have to look up to talk to you."   
  
Merry chuckled a bit and said, "Frodo, you may not be the biggest hobbit I know, but you remain the bestest, and I will never surpass you in deed. I have come to see about your hand."   
  
"It is fine," said Frodo, "very fine, an so much better than the madness of the Ring." A dark cloud passed through Merry's face, and he stared at the hand that was missing a finger.   
  
Frodo was surprised at the horrified expression on Merry's face. "Do not be troubled, little Merry," he said gently, "for I promise you, it is fine."  
  
"Yes," said Merry quietly, "I know that it is fine. I just wish that it could have ended differently. Even if you still lost the finger, that the madness could have been avoided."   
  
Frodo sat in a chair, and Merry clasped the hand. He looked at the hand, and his eyes went up Frodo's arm, to Frodo's face, which was serene. Merry's spirit finally was lifted; all he desired was some peace for Frodo. Perhaps it would be possible to return to those days when he and Frodo would drink and laugh together. Perhaps.  
  
Feeling rather silly, Merry made a request that he had not made in years: "Cousin Frodo, may I sit in your lap?"   
  
It had been ages since Merry had called him 'Cousin' and Frodo's surprise delayed his response: "If you can fit!" After some shifting, they were both comfortable, and eventually drifted off to sleep.   
  
Pippin was rather annoyed to find Merry not in his room. It made him worry. After some searching of the grounds, he remembered that Merry had said something about going to Frodo's room. He went there, and lightly rapped the door. When there was no response, he checked the handle and the door was open.   
  
"Silly Frodo, not locking the door as if he was merely at Bag End," whispered Pippin to himself as he pushed the door open. He noticed that Frodo and Merry were both asleep before he could make a clatter. Merry looked calm, which was a great relief to Pippin. Despite the fact that Pippin was well on his way to showing off his independence and responsibility, he still hoped to be as independent and responsible and smart as Merry. For in his mind, his cousin was still as infallible as he had ever been.   
  
A desire not to be alone swept over Pippin, but there was quite obviously no room for him to climb onto the Frodo-Merry pile without disrupting everything. Quietly, he moved the rug to the foot of the chair. He sat on the rug and propped himself against the chair, clutching the cuff of Merry's trouser, which was within easy reach. Holding the wool pant like a teddy bear, Pippin joined his two cousins in untroubled sleep.   
****THE END****


End file.
